Cael and the Symphony of Truth

Silence.

For the people of Lurea, sound was a distant memory now. The new generation had never known the delight of singing, playing an instrument, or the echoes of giggles. Silence had consumed the village like a heavy fog, seeping into every crevice, muffling footsteps, and swallowing even the wind's whisper. It hadn’t always been this way. There was a time before silence fell, the happiest of times.

Music danced through every corner of Lurea as villagers sang and rejoiced. Every person carried a delightful tune in their heart from the moment they awoke until the end of the day. The village of Lurea seemed to have been built entirely on a heartwarming symphony. This pleased the goddess of sound immensely, and she felt a humanlike giddiness every time she watched them.

But as the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and Lurea was about to face the harshest end of all. Evil elements began to creep into the hearts of all who sang and rejoiced in Lurea, going unnoticed until it was too late.

Arrogance.

Jealousy.

Hatred.

They festered like a virus, consuming all that was light and love within their hosts. Soon, all that could be heard was voices rising and colliding like clashing cymbals, sharp with urgency or brittle with bitterness. Where sweet melodies had decorated the streets of Lurea before, arguments darkened them now.

The goddess of sound no longer looked down at Lurea with affection. Instead, she was filled with dread and disappointment.

With a soft, saddened voice like a collapsing star, she said, "If you will no longer honor sound, then you shall live without it."

And so it began. For five hundred years, the people of Lurea would not know the beauty of sound, she decided. A deep, disturbing depression fell over the village. Its people no longer had purpose.

They were lost, not just in sound, but in spirit. They were quiet, and in that stillness, they became meaningless.

The world quickly forgot about Lurea as it had lost its spark when it lost its sound. Now, it was merely an empty shell of what it used to be. The cry of a newborn never fell on his mother’s ear. Complete silence threatened to suffocate anyone who dared to visit the village, and so no one did.

Roughly fifty years after the curse began, a young wandering musician named Cael strolled into Lurea. As always, he carried his instrument, a beautiful sylphara, strapped to his back. It was small and not too different from a harp. He considered it to be his only true friend. Cael had grown accustomed to the cruelty of the world. He had been born deaf, you see. As a child, people laughed at him when he shared his longing to make music.

“A deaf musician,” they would say, their sinister laughter filling the air around them.

Cael was not like anyone else, because while he couldn’t hear a thing, he was able to see music. This was a skill that no one possessed, not even the gods themselves. Melodies presented themselves in the most colorful bursts of patterns, moving around him like the tide. While he had been ridiculed as a freak by all who had known him before, to Lurea he would become hope.

As Cael walked into the village, he felt the absence of color right away. This place was unlike any other he had known. It seemed completely drained of everything that made life enjoyable. A beautiful little girl ran towards him. Spotting this stranger, she stopped and stared. A small smile drifted across her face briefly. It never reached her eyes. Off she ran to continue with her dull day. The despair in her eyes filled him with such an immense sadness that he slumped down onto the cobblestone street and wept. Even his sobs of hopelessness didn’t carry any color. Instead, they seemed to disappear before they were ever properly formed. Cael didn’t know how long he sat there before he felt the weight of his instrument on his back. It seemed to beg, “Play me, Cael.”

Drying his tears, he slowly removed the sylphara. It felt bizarrely heavy in his arms. Taking a deep breath, Cael readied himself for the possibility that his sylphara might not shine its beauty all around him while he remained in this bland place. As his fingers strummed over the strings lightly, the fairest shade of purple escaped from them. Relieved, Cael let his hands flow freely, creating music that was truly from his heart. The grayness that had weighed him down mere minutes before was replaced with a bouquet of rainbows. Cael allowed his tears to flow as he continued to play, remembering the young girl with the sad smile.

Unbeknownst to Cael, his music caught the attention of the goddess of sound. She, too, had forgotten about Lurea, her greatest disappointment. Now, as she listened to the music flowing from below, she was transported back to a time where Lurea was filled with passion, love, and music. Tears rolled over her face, too, as Cael’s music resonated deep within her.

How unfair I have been, she thought as shame flooded through her like a splash of ink on a blank sheet of paper. She had taken so much joy from so many who had not even existed when the spell began. In her quest to teach them a lesson, she had forgotten how to be merciful. Countless innocent, silent souls had suffered through no fault of their own.

Relentlessly Cael continued, feeling the music move through him like wind through a cloud. It owned him in every way, and he was a puppet to the sylphara. He was so transfixed by the unforgettable notes his fingers were creating that he didn’t even notice when people began to encircle him in amazement.

Old, young, and everyone in between surrounded him with tears in their eyes. For many, this would mark the first time that they could hear anything, an experience that would enrich their lives forever.

The goddess of sound inhaled as she lifted the spell. Cael and his sylphara had done the unthinkable. True connections grew between the people of Lurea, blossoming with every note played.

As Cael came out of his musical trance, he was surprised to see that he had a weeping audience. Even though he couldn’t hear their applause and cheers, he could see it. He felt it. His eyes fell on the little girl where she stood not far from him. The little girl took a tentative step toward him, then another. As the last notes of his uplifting symphony shimmered through the air, she reached up and touched her ear, then her chest.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, her voice finally her own. They would be grateful to him until the end of their days for he was the one to end their drought of silence.